


I got vision (and the rest of the world wears bifocals)

by theonlytwin



Series: let's you and me jump in that river [2]
Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-19 20:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11905500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlytwin/pseuds/theonlytwin
Summary: After swimming through the piranha-infested waters of the Amazon, running with the bulls in Pamplona, finding love in Paris — and losing it in Malta — you’ve seen big things, Donald.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title from bc&tsk, part of a series bc I can't leave pining alone, summary from the pied piper blog, which exists, god does it exist.

As a boy, Donald had learned many tricks. He had learned that snapping at people does more harm than good. He had learned that most tend to prefer being listened to than listening, and that’s ok. He had learned that sometimes cuticle care made a lot of difference in how people viewed themselves. He had learned that saved money can only be spent, but dreams and kindnesses can be shared and kept simultaneously. 

Jared had handed over the 40th birthday letter instead of the application letter by accident, but he’s fairly certain he got it back before Richard read too much. He’s fairly certain that kind of ambition will intimidate Richard, who’s personal hopes tend not to reach past the end of the day.

However, he’s certainly read the first line. 

“I thought you didn’t know when your birthday was,” Richard says, after assuring Jared that he’s hired.

“Oh, I don’t. I just pick the most pleasant day of the year and decide it’s then.”

“Um - but what if you don’t realise it’s the most pleasant day you’re going to have when you’re having it?”

Jared smiles. This is a typically Richard question to ask - insightful in a pessimistic fashion. 

Of course Jared has had years where there were very few good days. In between foster homes, the box months, Uncle Jerry. By the time he was in senior year, he had started picking out a spring or summer’s day and doing only fun things - splurging on a pizza, feeding ducks in the park, meeting friends. After telling his Vassar roommate Freckle about his floating birthday, they had organized a day after the final submission of the final assessment with mani-pedis, fancy potato salad and a very considerate sex worker with whom Jared still exchanges Christmas cards and occasional sexual and/or business advice.

These days he has both less time to organize something really special and less need to. After all, today Richard came to his door and apologized with genuine contrition.

His increasingly destructive behavior has been particularly distressing in light of the fact that he recently fairly clearly implied that he was aware of and reciprocated some of the feelings Jared had been repressing as a matter of professionalism. 

He’s kept himself to what he considers a normal amount of focus on Richard’s needs, and allowed himself only a few fantasies which have been intentionally limited and soft-edged - gently imagining to himself Richard’s body in repose, lit by the California sun filtering through something or other, Richard’s even teeth, shown in something that might be a smile or a snarl, Richard’s hand in his, the joined unit of their fingers swinging between them as they walk some place, Richard’s pale feet, glimpsed before but bought, in this waking dream, into stark focus for some reason - nothing specific. Nothing with narrative. 

But even these careful indulgences struggle in the face of Richard’s objectively self-involved - occasionally infantile - actions. Jared cares for him, as his CEO and - whatever else - but he can’t act in two roles at once, especially as one is - as they agreed - functionally non-existent.

It had been, frankly, an emotionally exhausting few months, culminating in his resignation, in more ways than one, from the situation. 

Jared had invited Tess and Emma and Ariella over as a sort of low key house warming and brain storm session for new employment opportunities, and then Richard had knocked, with shame in his eyes and his heart, as it always was, on his sleeve.

“Who was that?” asked Tess.

Jared swallowed once, twice, trying to control the surge of emotions roiling in his chest. “That - was Richard.”

“Your endearingly terrible CEO?” Emma said, thrilled.

“Your beloved,” Ariella said, because she enjoyed archetypes and dramatising other people’s lives. 

“He’s not my CEO any more.”

“Which means you can and should jump on his dick,” Ariella announced. “Chop chop.”

“Um,” said Jared, staring at his hands and then the window - Richard had seemed too wound up to get a Lyft or Uber, he had probably walked and was probably still walking, “um, actually, I think I need to re-apply.”

“Is that some new slang? Should we help or is this private, I can’t tell. Donald, talk to us.”

“I'm actually going to - you should all stay, enjoy the mimosas, please don’t lease out my condo while I’m gone.” He was already going through his desk looking for the resume.

“Good luck!” said Tess.

“Use protection,” said Emma.

And that had brought him here, where Richard is waiting for an answer.

“Oh, I know it when it happens,” Jared says. Richard gives him an uncertain smile. Jared allows himself a split second image of touching his mouth.

Even though he spends the afternoon nursing Richard’s bruises, today is his birthday. 

When he gets home, Ariella is asleep on his couch, but Tess and Emma have made pizza from scratch in his kitchen. It's as good a party as any he’s had. He is 31 (probably).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this spiralled rapidly out of control

His 32nd birthday, he saves Richard’s life in the early hours of the morning.

“You - you saved my life,” gasps Richard. He’s still drunk, still coughing up sea water, they’re both wringing wet.

“I did what anyone with basic CPR training would do.”

“You - did you dive into the marina?” He tries to sit up, but Jared carefully presses him back down. 

“Well, yes.”

“Oh my god, you gave me the kiss of life.”

“That’s a fairly archaic name for it, Richard.”

“I think about kissing you all the time and I’m not even conscious when it happens!”

Jared listens, for a moment, to the sound of the sea, the party still going on the yacht - Richard’s splash had likely been covered by the sound of Justin Timberlake launching into one of his 2010 hits, so only Dinesh and possibly Monica saw them go in - and surely one of them thought to call an ambulance. Surely someone is looking for them, on this tiny bit of beach Jared had dragged him onto, following life guard instructions he learnt in the summer he spent living with the Ficheras on the Jersey Shore.

“Richard, you are - quite drunk, maybe concussed, and I think it’s best if you remain calm.”

Richard laughs wetly, hands grasping at nothing. “I think about kissing you when I’m 100% sober. It’s really bad, Jared, because I'm your boss and you’re my CFO but like - the HR guy, and who would you even report sexual assault to? Yourself? Would I get an anonymous report about me?”

“I don’t think you’re presently in your right mind, so,” Jared can hear sirens. Fantastic.

“Jared, I have never, ever been in my right mind. Not ever.” He sits up again. “Are those sirens? Is that for me?”

Jared stands, waves over the concrete wall, calls, “Down here! We’re down here.”

“I’m fine,” Richard mutters, near his knees.

A paramedic leans over the wall. “OK, guys, how we going?”

“I’m fine,” says Richard, a little louder.

“He slipped and fell from that yacht.”

“I dove!”

“He was trying to dive, but he slipped. I think he hit his head, and he definitely aspirated some seawater. He was unconscious when I pulled him out, I performed CPR until he brought up some water and revived, but we’d be most grateful if you could give him an all clear.”

The paramedic cocks her head, looking for a way down. “Good to know. We’ll definitely want to do a full examination though, so we’ll be right down. Hold tight and we'll take care of you.”

“Jared takes care of me,” Richard says to the beach.

Richard is held for 24 hours at the hospital with a small brain bleed which turns out to be totally fine - apart from the anterograde short term amnesia which means he remembers nothing of the conversation they had on the beach.

“Did you - did you save my life?” he asks, when he’s discharged from the hospital. 

Jared straightens his spine a little. “I did what anyone with CPR training would do.”

“Monica told me you dove into the marina. Dinesh said you were like the six million dollar man.”

“Well - I don’t know about six million dollars, my organs would net you maybe a half a mill, in this market.”

Richard laughs, maybe nervously. “You gave me, like, the kiss of life.”

Jared doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s a fairly archaic name for it, Richard.”

Richard looks at him, for a moment, but either the concussion suddenly made him an exceptional actor or he genuinely doesn’t remember, because he just says, “Thanks.”

“No thanks are necessary.”

“Um, yes, they are. I mean, you kinda took the thing you’ve been doing figuratively for years and made it literal, but - you did save my life. I don’t thank you enough, for all the little stuff. So - thanks.”

Jared inclines his head, because he can’t look at Richard right now. “You’re very welcome.”

“God, I should give you like - a raise. A life saving bonus. Do you want more shares?”

“That’s - that’s definitely not necessary.”

“A new title? Anything you want. I mean, I don’t have - anything. Hey, do you wanna - I’ll buy you lunch.”

“Oh, don’t you want to get home?”

“I mean, I’m hungry. It’s like - literally the least I can do. Literally. You - you saved my life, that’s - you can’t make this not a big deal.”

So, Richard buys Jared lunch, and it’s one of those rare conversations where neither of them mention work at all. Jared has a beer and a chocolate mousse because Richard insists, and it’s just plain pleasant. Richard eats some tacos because Jared saved his life. Richard gets hot sauce on his sleeve because Jared saved his life. Richard explains his ranking of the Godfather films because Jared saved his life. 

It’s enough.

“To life,” Richard raises his water. 

“To life,” agrees Jared, deciding that today is as good as the year can get.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MOOD! WHIP! LASH!
> 
> this chapter is about death! a non-character's death, but still! if you have lost someone, this might stir some shit up!
> 
> I DID NOT MEAN FOR THIS TO BE SO HEAVY BUT LIKE: HAVE YOU SEEN JARED? KID'S GOT SOME HEAVY BACKSTORY.

He is, in all likelihood, around 33 years old when his biological father dies. 

There’s some kind of Jesus parallel that his father would have made a point of - being an apocalyptic Baptist. Donald’s mother was Jewish, and one of his foster families had been - but another foster family made him take communion, he never became a bar mitzvah, and he doesn’t really believe in a specific higher power, so it’s all kind of a wash. The point is he’s not Jesus, no matter how much he suffers at the likely age of 33. He hasn’t had a birthday yet, but it’s nearly Halloween, which is, of course, a Christian appropriation of a pagan festival - 

Donald’s always been very easily distracted when he’s undergoing trauma - as if his brain is looking for a way out of the situation. 

But a lawyer called, and he’s needed in the Ozarks. 

Pied Piper is doing well enough that he can tell Richard he’ll be away for a week and Richard looks only a little panicked.

“Oh, um - what for?”

I have to go bury a man I barely know, he thinks, but he’s not really prepared to cry in front of Richard right now, so he says, “Family business. I’ll be back on Wednesday afternoon, and you can call or email if anything comes up.”

“Yeah, thanks, we’ll be - fine, probably, fly safe I guess?”

Jared wants to hug him. They have, over the years, developed certain unspoken agreements about physical contact. A hand on a wrist or shoulder or knee is fine, a clothed arm pressed against clothed arm in a normal, unurgent way, Jared will fix Richard’s collar and he won’t flinch - all this is allowed. Anything more - including hugging - happens only in extremis, and Jared can’t presently explain the extremis. However - “Could I - hug you goodbye?”

Richard squints at him. “I - you’re coming back, right?”

“Of course. I’m sorry I asked, it was just a - passing fancy.”

“OK? I mean - have we ever - I don’t - I, I guess, if you want, we could,” he spreads his arms a little, and Jared steps in, probably over-eager.

He folds his arms around Richard, quietly inhales. “I’ll be back on Wednesday.”

Richard’s hands land awkwardly just below his shoulder blades. “Yeah, good. Because you’re giving me some suicide mission vibes - I mean, I know your family’s not - good, like - Jared, do you need help?”

Jared hangs on a second longer, and lets go. “Not with this. Anyway, au revoir!”

“See you soon,” calls Richard.

He walks away before he starts crying, which counts as a win.

***

It is - not good to see the house where his biological father lived. 

He experiences the thing at a distance - the piles of paper, the coroner’s report, the bare fridge, the barely legal will, the stains on the couch - the whole lonely horror of it - nothing has changed since the last (the only) time he was here, when his father had expected - demanded - respect, and Donald had only wanted answers (and, very possibly, love - it was always good to hope) - the only thing that is different is that his father is dead. 

The burial costs aren’t high. 

***

He checks his emails regularly, during his days away and on the flight home. 

Nothing from Richard, or anyone at Pied Piper.

***

He comes straight from the airport to the office. 

Richard is talking fo Gilfoyle about server upgrades, and Jared nearly just - walks away, because he doesn’t want to interrupt, but Gilfoyle looks up, spots him and says, “What the shit happened to you?”

“Hi, Gilfoyle, Richard. I’m back.” 

“Hi, hey, how are you?” Richard takes two steps towards him, half a step back, “Are you ok?”

“You look closer to death than usual,” Gilfoyle announces. 

“Well, maybe that’s because I guess I have been, in a literal sense. My biological father passed away last week, and I was called in to organise the funeral.”

Richard freezes up. Gilfoyle does too, which is rarer. 

“Fuck.”

“Shit - Jared, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m gonna - get you a beer,” says Gilfoyle.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Jared starts.

“Shut up, you’re mourning, I disrespected you, I’m getting you a beer. All of us. We all need beer.”

“I’m not - mourning isn’t the right term, probably. I didn’t really know him.”

“Fuck me, please stop talking until we have beer.”

He walks away, leaving Richard staring at Jared.

“You didn’t - say anything. You shouldn’t be back at work, Jared, you need - you should take more time off.”

“Richard, my father’s body wasn’t found for three days. I - don’t want to be alone. I want to be - useful.”

“Jesus,” says Richard, and comes towards him, pulls him into a sharp, awkward hug. “Fuck, Jared, you don’t need to be useful to be - not alone. You’re not - like, we need you around but you’re not just - I mean, I nearly called you like seven times, and only half of those were Pied Piper things, and the others were just, like, I wanted to talk to you but I didn’t want to be a hassle, and so I didn’t - holy shit,” he heaves in a breath, and Jared’s not sure who’s comforting who, now. “I should’ve - right?”

Jared holds him, beating heart and breathing lungs and whirring brain, tells him, “I hope you always talk to me when you want to.”

Gilfoyle comes back in with beer and Dinesh. 

“Um, why are we day drinking? Is this happy day drinking or?”

Richard lets go, and Jared immediately misses the warmth, so maybe it was mutual comfort. “Jared’s dad died.”

“Ah - shit - so - sad day drinking.”

Gilfoyle presses a bottle into Jared’s hand. 

***

They drink a lot.

Jared’s normally better about pacing himself, but - he’s - Gilfoyle keeps handing him beers, and they’re all talking about their fathers, and expecting Jared to talk about his, and - so - 

“The most important thing my father taught me was to not expect love. He expected it, and never offered it, and it - drove everyone away.”

“My father taught me that marriage is meaningless if your secretary is hot enough,” says Gilfoyle.

“My father tried to teach me spin bowling,” says Dinesh. “He was really bad at it, though.”

“You are, though - loved,” says Richard, from behind a pile of peeled off beer labels. “Like - you have friends. You have - us - we love you.”

Richard glances around - Dinesh and Gilfoyle make eye contact across the table. 

“Not the terminology I’d use,” Gilfoyle says, “but sure.”

Jared still isn’t prepared to cry, but it’s happening. “I’m sorry - I’m sorry, I don’t mean to get teary - thank you so much - thank you all.”

There had been a statement in his father’s will - which had been written on the back of a diner menu, and included comments such as “buried by my son’s hand or dollar” and “a five piece band of big breasted women”, only the former of which was observed, which made reference to “any family of my line should be in attendance,” and Jared had felt - not guilty, but sad, which was - silly, because his father was delusional in many ways, and this expectation shouldn’t be a surprise - but - 

He has a family. Here. Not of blood, which Jared knows better than most doesn’t actually matter. An odd, unjoined, extremely male family.

It’s not the first time he’s thought of them as such, but it’s the first time he believes they all share the thought, consciously. 

This becomes his birthday.


	4. Chapter 4

He turns 35 in Paris.

Their new European partners insist on a black tie celebration of Pied Piper’s global saturation, and Jared’s not going to say no to international travel that doesn’t involve shipping containers.

There’s a crab soup and a butter yellow wine and speeches about what a success the company is and everyone keeps congratulating Richard - who disappears after the custardy dessert, when everyone's supposed to be mingling.

He’s not answering his texts - which isn't particularly strange.

“You wanna go check on him?” Monica, radiant in midnight blue, asks.

Jared lets out the breath he’s been holding. “Oh, absolutely.”

“Let me know if we need to - talk him out of something, or whatever.”

Jared lets himself into the hotel suite and knocks on Richard’s door.

“Yeah?”

Jared slides as unobtrusively as possible into the room. Richard’s sitting barefoot on the bed, the bow tie Jared had knotted for him discarded with his shoes. He’s still wearing the dinner jacket, though his top buttons and cuffs are open, laptop on his knees.

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No, no - I’m just - watching the data. The current users. Come, take a look,” he waves Jared over, and Jared sits on the opposite side of the bed, a meter of white Egyptian linen between them, looks at the rise and fall of user hours and activities. “There’s so - much we could like, learn from this. And earn from it, I guess, if we wanted to sell to market research.”

“Do you - want to sell our data to market researchers?”

“What, no - we don’t need to - right?”

Jared shakes his head. They really don’t.

“Right, but like - I was thinking if we scrub some of the - pointier identifiers, make it totally not thing of privacy, we could maybe - release it, to the public, as a resource? For like? Sociology? Is that a good idea or a massive violation of our user agreements? Is this like - one of those CEO is super alienated from normal people’s needs things?”

Jared tips his head. “Well, I wouldn't do anything without talking to our lawyers, or making a public statement with a chance for users to opt out - but it's not a bad idea.”

“Yeah,” Richard nods a few times, “ok, yeah.” He shuts the laptop. “Yeah, I shouldn’t just drop a million files on a public cloud, that’s a bad idea. Good thing you came in, huh?”

“Richard? You didn’t -”

“No, no, it’s - it was a joke. I didn’t do anything. I’m anti-social, not a total sociopath.”

Jared studies him, for a second. “I know you don’t like parties.”

“I hate parties.”

“It’s a generous gesture,” he tries, and Richard just shrugs. 

“Yeah, I know, but I just - hate it. I can handle people telling me I’m clever for like, fifteen minutes, then I want to drag all the skin off my body, you know?”

“Not - in those terms, but - yes. But, Richard, you are clever.”

“In one very specific field, yes - and I’m a train wreck in every other respect.”

Jared reaches across the bed and pushes Richard’s hair away from his forehead.

Richard closes his eyes, sighs. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Jared tells him.

Richard turns into his hand, eyes still closed, shoulders dropping as he relaxes.

“You’re like - the only person I want to hear that from.”

Jared smiles, in a way he can’t control. Richard opens his eyes, smiles back. “I’m - proud of you too - of you, like - sticking with me.”

Jared chokes up a little. “Oh, my captain.”

Richard winces. “Nope, no - nice sentiment, still a boner killer.”

“Were we - did you want to have sex?”

“Um, I didn't want to go back to the fucking - French party. And this bed is like - twice as big as ours. And I didn't say anything but the suit is - y’know, it’s a good look on you.”

Jared glances down at himself - he had assumed the white shirt washed him out. “Is it?”

“You look like an old timey movie star,” says Richard, “and I kind of want to fuck you with like the shirt still on - is that ok? I mean, you can go back to the party -”

Jared leans over and kisses him, their teeth clicking. Richard laughs, a little, pushes his tongue into Jared’s mouth, pushes his hands up Jared’s sides, under the jacket.

Jared is still wearing the shirt when Richard slides his dick into him, fingers clenched in the white tails of it. Jared’s legs are draped over Richard’s shoulders, so Jared can watch his beautiful, mobile face, can reach up and rest a hand at the base of his throat, can marvel at the whole perfect sight.

Later, after the thoroughly ruined white shirt has been disposed of and they’ve changed into pyjamas, Jared presses his nose and mouth into the space just behind Richard’s ear. 

“Have you ever thought,” he asks softly, “about going to Malta?”

Richard’s half asleep already. “No? Do you - wanna go? We can go.”

“No, thank you,” Jared tells him, and settles into the luxurious sheets.

***

His 34th birthday had been - a surprise. 

Pied Piper 2.0 achieves 5 million daily active users the same day Erlich Bachman is repatriated - he tries to dip Monica, who knees him rather forcefully in the groin.

“I come on the wings of victory,” he says, eventually.

“Ok, I’m glad you’re alive and everything, but you did have literally nothing to do with this version of Pied Piper.”

“Oh Richard, if my time with the shamans taught me anything, it’s that everything has to do with everything else.”

Richard rolls his eyes, but then the pizza arrives and they’re all too buzzed to fuss about details. 

Gavin calls Richard at about eight - Jared watches, tense, as Richard takes the phone outside.

“Jared,” Erlich leans into his space, smelling not at all like marijuana smoke, which is new, “don’t even worry.”

“Why would I worry?”

“You’re scared Gavin’s gonna coax him away with some Faustian temptation.” Erlich always was occasionally highly insightful. “But it’s not gonna happen.”

“It’s not?”

Richard walks back in, looking quietly triumphant. He sits next to Jared, where he had been, says, “Y’know - we wouldn’t be here without him - like, I probably would never have met you, Jared, without Gavin Belson, or done anything much with my algorithm - but fuck that guy.”

Jared grins, and Erlich says, “Told you.”

“Told me what?” asks Richard.

A few hours later, Jared’s filling the recycling bin in the kitchen. Richard walks in, says, “Hey - can I - talk to you?”

Jared straightens up, wipes his hands on a tea towel. “Of course, Richard, what’s up?”

Richard’s not looking at him. “I wanted - I want - fuck.” Something drops out of Jared's stomach. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“What - is this?” Jared asks, because everything - everything has been going so well, and there’s nothing Jared could think of that has Richard this panicked, he only gets like this when - when he’s scared or angry and he doesn’t look angry.

Richard takes a deep breath. “Remember - Liz Melcher?”

Jared blinks. “Did you - have sex with her again? Oh my god, is she pregnant? Did she get pregnant, Richard, are you a father?”

“What? No! No. Jesus. I haven't seen her in years, and - I - after, we were in the kitchen and I said - I told you I wasn't in love with her?”

Jared nods, suddenly unable to speak. 

“Jared, I’ve fucked up - a lot, but we never did. And - this, this company is fine, because of you, and you were always the most stabilising thing, and it’s so dumb that for years I was - too afraid to - tell you. I am in love - with you. I mean - you knew that. Right?”

“I - had inferred.” Jared curls his hand into the tea towel. 

“Right. So? Um - so, could we?” Richard looks - panicked. Afraid. Afraid that he’s going to ruin something, to lose something.

Jared’s afraid too, but he’s much more excited.

“Richard - if you’ll permit it, I would very much like to kiss you now.”

He makes a strangled noise, but walks two steps towards him, and Jared makes up the rest of the distance, and they catch each other by the fridge, Richard’s arms around Jared’s waist and Jared’s hands in Richard’s hair, and it’s so much more detailed and thrilling than anything he ever imagined - his lips and tongue and teeth under Jared’s, the way he smells and feels, the little noises he’s making, frantic.

Someone wolf whistles - Richard nearly jumps away from Jared. 

It’s Erlich in the doorway, grinning. He shoots them finger guns, says, “You’re welcome.”

Richard clutches his own head. “You had - nothing to do with this!”

“Didn’t I, Richard? Didn’t I?”

“Um, Richard - I was going to head home,”  
Jared says, gathering himself.

“What,” Richard spins back to him, “no, I did a whole - declaration - we kissed - was it not - am I bad at kissing?”

“I was going to say, if you wanted to come with me?”

Richard widens his eyes. 

“Go forth, young Richard! Lose the last of your virginity.”

Richard covers his face with both hands. 

“Erlich, it’s a pleasure to have you home, but I’m going to see myself out.”

Richard reaches out, wraps a hand around Jared’s wrist. 

***

Jared takes him home. 

It’s awkward, for a moment, in the living room - Richard’s never been to his home, and looks around, as if amazed.

“Despite what Erlich said, and the social connotations of bringing someone back to your living space after kissing them, we don’t have to - go all the way, as it were.”

Richard laughs, shortly, pulls Jared down into a kiss, and then another, gaining in confidence as he goes. 

Jared thoroughly enjoys his hair, his delicate neck, his avid hands, dragging him onto the couch, the ways Richard rocks, excitedly, against his burgeoning erection.

“Hey, um - could I go down on you? Is that - do men say that?”

“I would be - honored,” gasps Jared.

“I mean,” Richard fumbles with his belt, cups his crotch for a second, eyes dark, “I’ve never done this on a person, but,” he opens Jared’s belt, his fly, pulls his pants and boxers down, licks him once and swallows him.

Jared thinks he may scream a little. 

Richard bobs his head a few times, pulls off, says, “Is this - good?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Jared winds his fingers into Richard’s hair.

He comes quickly, gets hard again quickly, which he can only attribute to being in love. 

They move to the bedroom, and Jared makes Richard come twice, so they’re even. 

It takes a lot of time, and a lot of lubricant, and it’s nearly one by the time they can have a rational conversation. 

“So - that was great.”

“That was wonderful.”

“Think we can - keep doing this and keep - working together? Like normal?”

“I will do everything in my power to make that a reality,” Jared tells him.

Richard presses his face to Jared’s chest. “Cool. Me too.”

“Mmhm.”

They lie there, on stained sheets, satisfied.

“I think - yesterday was my birthday.”

Richard rearranges himself, puts a hand on Jared’s cheek, looks blissfully at him. “Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on and off public transport through several cities during some stressful times and let me just say how nice it is to have people praise yr super indulgent unedited romantic ramblings. love you all.


End file.
